The City Of The Dead

Ayo, a Nigerian man, relocated to Cairo, Egypt, in search of a better life. He found work as a taxi driver. Every day he met different people but one passenger stood out. Her name was Habeebat Hassan.

Habeebat worked in an office in Cairo. Her job required her to travel around the city several times every week. After using Ayo’s taxi once, she enjoyed both his company and the smooth ride. Before she got out of the car that day, they exchanged phone numbers.
From then on, whenever she had errands to run for her boss, she called Ayo.

Over time they became friends. Whenever she had enough time, they would stop for lunch before continuing with the day’s work. She became Ayo’s favourite customer. Soon, he found himself looking forward to seeing her even on days she had no errands to run.

Weeks passed. Months passed.
Habeebat visited Ayo a few times but she never allowed him to return the visit.
They had become close friends. Ayo liked her very much and wanted their friendship to become something more.
But first, he wanted to know her better.
He wanted to meet her family.
He wanted to know where she lived.
He wanted to meet her son.

Whenever they spent an evening together, Habeebat would never allow Ayo to drop her off at home. She always asked him to stop somewhere else, insisting that she would find her own way home. This continued for a long time until it became an issue between them.

One night after dinner, she finally agreed that he could take her home. Ayo asked for her address so he could enter it into his GPS. She refused. Instead, she told him to follow her directions.
As she guided him through the roads, Ayo became uneasy. He knew where they were heading. The road led farther and farther away from the city. It was one of the longest drives he had ever made. Finally, she asked him to stop.

Ayo looked around. His eyes widened in shock. Habeebat lived in the City of the Dead. One of the world’s oldest and largest Islamic cemeteries.
Although it was a cemetery, many people had lived there for generations. Some families even lived inside or beside old mausoleums. Because of housing shortages in Egypt, parts of the cemetery had slowly become real neighbourhoods. People cooked meals, raised children, went to work and returned home every evening… all while surrounded by graves.

At that moment, Ayo understood why she had hidden her home from him.
He gently assured her that she had nothing to be ashamed of.
He reminded her that she was hardworking and he believed that with enough savings she would eventually move somewhere better. He even promised to support her if she needed help. She smiled and thanked him.
Then she apologised that it was already late and it was not a good time for him to come inside to meet her family, especially her son. But she promised that the next time he visited, she would introduce everyone to him.

As Ayo drove home that night, he could not stop thinking. The people living there had become so used to their surroundings that the cemetery no longer frightened them. They had built a thriving community among the tombs.
Meanwhile, he was a foreigner, yet life had treated him better than many of them. He warned himself never to complain again whenever he felt life was unfair.

When he got home, he sent Habeebat a text message. She replied immediately.
She thanked him for being understanding because she believed most men would have reacted differently after discovering where she lived. Ayo assured her that he was not like most men. She mentioned that her phone had started acting up and that she had to go and he wished her good night.

The next day he did not hear from her.
He waited. Still nothing. He became worried. He drove to her office building and waited outside, hoping to see her come out. She never did.
He approached the security desk and asked if they had seen Habeebat.
The security guards told him the building had sixteen floors, many companies and several women named Habeebat. He needed to be more specific. That was when something struck him. He did not know the name of the company where she worked. It had never occurred to him to ask.

His mind filled with questions.
Was she embarrassed after showing him where she lived?
Had she fallen sick?
Had something happened to her parents?
Had something happened to her son?
The questions refused to leave him.

A week later, Ayo drove to the City of the Dead to look for her. The cemetery stretched for miles. Finding one person there was like looking for a pin in a haystack. Still, he was willing to try.
As expected, asking for Habeebat Hassan led nowhere. There were many women with that name. Then Ayo remembered her son’s name. Khalid.
That narrowed the search.

A young man nearby became interested in Ayo’s story and offered to help for a fee. He then asked Ayo if he had a photograph of the woman.
Thankfully, Habeebat loved taking pictures. Ayo opened his phone and showed him several photographs.
The young man stared at them for a long moment. Then he quietly told Ayo to follow him.They walked for a long time through narrow paths lined with old tombs and weathered mausoleums.
Eventually they arrived at a small tent where a young boy was playing alone.
The guide gently called the boy and asked him, through Arabic, to go and bring his grandparents because someone had come looking for their daughter. The little boy ran inside.

Moments later, an elderly man and woman stepped out. The guide introduced Ayo and explained that he had travelled there looking for their daughter, Habeebat.
The old couple looked at each other in silence. Then the guide slowly turned to Ayo. He explained that Habeebat had died four years earlier while giving birth to her son, Khalid.

For a few seconds Ayo could neither breathe nor speak. His ears rang. His knees became weak. The world around him spun violently. Then everything went black. He collapsed onto the ground.

When Ayo finally regained consciousness, he found himself lying inside the tent while the elderly couple watched him with concern. His whole body trembled. He struggled to sit up.
Then, with a shaking voice, he told them everything.
He told them how he had met Habeebat.
How she became his favourite passenger. How they ate lunch together.
How they became close friends. And only a week earlier, he had driven her home.
No one interrupted him. No one spoke.

When he finished, the silence inside the tent became unbearable. Desperate to prove he was not losing his mind, Ayo grabbed his phone. His hands shook as he opened the gallery. He searched for her photographs. One after another.
There was nothing. Every single picture of Habeebat had disappeared.

His breathing became heavy.
“No…”
He searched again.
Nothing.
The volunteer guide snatched the phone from him. His own face turned pale.
Only minutes earlier, he had personally looked through several photographs of Habeebat before bringing Ayo there.
Now they were all gone. Not one remained.

Before Ayo left, the elderly couple quietly asked him to follow them. They led him through rows of old tombs until they stopped before a simple grave. The guide told him that this was where Habeebat had been buried four years earlier.

Ayo stood frozen.

His eyes remained fixed on her grave.
He wanted to say something, but no words came.
For a brief moment, he caught the faint scent of the perfume Habeebat always wore.
His heart skipped.
He slowly turned around.
No one was there.
When he looked back at the grave, an overwhelming feeling came over him.
He could almost swear that Habeebat was there… watching.

Ayo forced himself to walk away, but every step felt heavier than the last. He never looked back.

Fear followed Ayo everywhere after that day. He could no longer drive at night without checking the rear-view mirror again and again.
Every time his phone vibrated after midnight, his heart pounded before he looked at the screen.
Sometimes he thought he saw Habeebat standing among crowds before she disappeared.
Sometimes he heard a familiar laugh behind him. Whenever he turned around, no one was there.

One question never left his mind.
How many people do we meet every day without knowing who… or what… they really are?

Perhaps the woman serving you at the grocery store.
Perhaps the stylist doing your hair.
Perhaps the waiter smiling as he brings your food.
Perhaps the stranger sitting quietly beside you.
Who knows?

There could just be a Habeebat sitting… or walking… beside you.
Life and death exist side by side, not only in the City of the Dead but in the city where you live.